Emmy & Oliver - Robin Benway Page 0,21
the ocean shimmering down the hill below us.
“A few years ago,” I admitted. “Drew’s older brother, Kane, taught me when I was fourteen. It was the summer before he went to college and he had already taught Drew and it was just . . .” I searched for a word that didn’t exist. “It just felt like I discovered something that made me feel different than I had felt before. It made me different. I didn’t think I’d like it at first, but I loved it. I still love it.” I adjusted my sunglasses as the sun came pouring in through the windshield, the afternoon bright and warm. “Drew goes out a lot with me, but Caro doesn’t like it too much. She hates the seaweed.”
Look at me, conversing with Oliver! I thought to myself. And no one’s been traumatized yet!
“Got it.” Oliver had his elbow resting against the open window, the air blowing his hair back and forth across his forehead. “So how long has Drew been gay?”
I bristled immediately, my voice sharp. “Um, since he was conceived?”
“No, I meant—sorry, that’s not what I meant at all. I meant, when did he come out? Or—has he yet?”
Stand down, tiger. I told myself. Just some innocent questions.
“He came out to his parents last year,” I said, my spine relaxing. “But we’ve known for, like, ever. It wasn’t exactly a secret, but I think Drew’s parents were a little surprised. They were cool with it but . . .”
“But not really?” Oliver offered.
“They say they love him all the time,” I told him, remembering how Drew’s voice had shaken when he told Caro and me about that. “But I think they have to learn to love a different version of him than the one they were expecting. Which is silly, because Drew is just Drew. He’s not different, you know? It’s just the way they’re looking at him that’s changed.”
Oliver nodded, his lips pursed as he thought about that. “Sometimes love isn’t something you say, it’s something you do,” he finally said. “Or, I don’t know, at least that’s what it seems like.”
I glanced at Oliver and wondered whose parents we were discussing now.
“Agreed,” I said, then decided to take a risk. “I’m sorry people are being such creeps at school. It sucks. And that milk carton shit was stupid.”
“Yeah, well, what are you gonna do?” Oliver shrugged. “I’m the star of the month, I guess. My mom and the principal had a meeting about it, which was totally helpful.” The sarcasm practically dripped off his teeth. “Don’t tell anyone about that, okay? It won’t help.”
“No worries,” I said. “What’d they say, though?”
“That I should see the guidance counselor in addition to a therapist.” Oliver sighed a little, his breath disappearing into the wind as I turned a corner. “Don’t tell anyone about that, either.”
“Well, lucky for you, you are in the perfect car for keeping secrets.” I gestured to the surfboards in the back. “And therapists are the worst,” I added. “If you wanted to talk about things, you’d talk about them, right?”
“You’ve been?”
I realized my mistake too late. “Yeah, well, after you . . . you know.”
“After my dad kidnapped me. You can say it.”
“After your dad kidnapped you,” I echoed, but the words sounded a lot sadder coming out of his mouth than they did coming out of mine. “Me and Caro and Drew, we all went, but then one of them made Drew cry—I don’t remember what he said, exactly, but he said something—and so Caro kicked the therapist and then I kicked him and we didn’t have to go anymore.”
“Why’d you kick him?”
“Because I,” I said, placing my hand over my heart, “am a very loyal friend, Oliver.”
He startled a little again, even as he laughed. “Good to know. So you’re saying I should kick my therapist?”
“You have a real gift for reading between the lines,” I said, then pulled the car into a parking space and clapped my hands down on top of the steering wheel. “Now then. Are you ready for the best surfing lesson of your life?”
“You mean first and maybe only surfing lesson?”
“Possibly.”
“Absolutely,” he said, and we climbed out of the car.
CHAPTER NINE
Oliver was terrible. I mean, I thought Caro was bad when Kane first taught us that day on the beach, but Oliver made her look like Laird Hamilton.
“Okay,” I said when we carried our boards down to the beach, trying not to trip on the steep wooden steps. “First, suit